The Supernatural Files
by fantasy elf queen
Summary: Dean Winchester army medic has returned to the States injured and scarred. Fait leads to Dean becoming roommates with Castiel Novak consulting detective to the NYPD.The two become friends and work partners and maybe something more but there are games afoot and a mysterious serial killer with a curious calling card is wreaking havoc on the streets of Manhattan.Full Summary inside


**This story is going to be a modern American Sherlock Holmes with Supernatural characters and debunking of the Supernatural. Be prepared for poking fun at fandoms, Supernatural, Sherlock, Doctor Who and a lot of anglophile…ness. Everything is going to be real world, no fantasy, supernatural or sci fi… **

**Be prepared for mucho Destiel, this is nc-17 for sex, violence, language, and gore. Possible minor character death but nothing is set in stone. I just restarted school and I'm taking duel enrollment, I have no internet and I'm in the middle of writing another Destiel story on here, Bright Eyes and Subtle Variations of Blue so updates will be sporadic and sometimes a couple weeks in-between. **

**: Full Summary:**

**Dean Winchester has returned home from War as an Army Medic injured and scarred. An orphan and on bad terms with his struggling druggy brother Dean moves to New York City. Fate lends a hand and Dean finds himself roommates with Castiel Novak, consulting detective to the NYPD. Through oddities of circumstance the two become friends and work partners…and maybe something more, it the two can get past denial, a good dose of self loathing, stubbornness and a dastardly plot from a hidden villain with a curious calling card.**

**: Note:**

**This is not going to follow the plotline of BBC Sherlock. Dean and Cas are going to have similarities with the show, the beginning is going to lean heavily on the first episode of Sherlock but after that the plot is mine. Also I will post lists of characters to let you know who are OCs and who are actors (Several of the characters are going to be well known British actors, watch out for David Tennant & Richard Armitage)**

~oOo~

I was not Cas's sidekick damnit!

I frowned at the coffee pot gurgling and hissing before thumping it a couple of times till it quit making noises as if it were about to explode. I was sick of everyone assuming I was his little minion traipsing about the city, as if I had nothing better to do. I quietly harrumphed and pulled two clean mugs from the dish drainer and eyed them speculatively before shrugging and grabbing creamer from the fridge. I shook the cartoon and sighed, how we went through the stuff like water was beyond me. I suspected Cas secretly drank it like milk.

But anyways, I was, I was sick of everyone assuming we were a couple too damnit! No matter where we went it was oh how long have you two been together or the both of you look so cute together. The worst were the dopey eyed "knowing" gazes. I was still glowering at the thought when I carried two steaming mugs of coffee into the living room. I placed Cas's nearly white and gaggingly sweet on the end table by the couch, turned, and nearly tripped over his laptop lying haphazardly on the floor.

"Cas how long have we lived here?"

He glanced up from the Harvard Science article he was reading, black square framed glasses perching on the end of his nose.

"Three months a week and two days…why?"

I flopped into my armchair and glared.

"Because I've been telling you for three fucking months a week and two days to not leave your damn laptop on the floor. Put in on the coffee table like a normal person!"

I received an imperious glance before he gracefully plucked up his mug of coffee and arched an eyebrow over the rim as I continued to glare at him. We sat like that for half an hour, Cas sipping his chick coffee with one eyebrow arched with amusement while I glowered from my deeply cushioned armchair. I finally sighed in defeat and retreated to the kitchen for more coffee. When I returned the laptop sat perched in between Cas's crossed legs while he sipped his coffee primly.

I rolled my eyes and made myself comfortable, clicking on the tv to channel surf. It was Sunday; Sundays meant vegetating in pajamas and bad sitcoms. Cas's phone buzzed.

"There's been a murder in 601 Lexington Avenue."

I groaned and turned the tv off. If Cas mentioned a case, it meant within ten minutes I would be throwing on anything that didn't smell like three week old laundry and dashing out the door after a tan trench coat to hop in a taxi.

"What's so special about the Citigroup Center?"

Another imperious glance, he clearly considered it a ridiculous question and God forbid I be a normal human being that actually had to put two and two together to find connections and facts.

"What's special is an executive of Boston Properties was murdered on the 59th floor."

"Annnnd the top floor is bigger and badder why?"

If he rolled his eyes, he would have at that moment.

"The doors to his office were locked from the inside Dean, there was no forced entry."

"Ahhh, well I'll go change then, we can walk there in ten minutes."

That was different for a change, usually the cases Cas took interest in led us a million ways through Manhattan and to my usual horror occasionally Queens and the Bronx, Cas did always fixate on the elusive ones.

But 601 Lexington Avenue was only a few blocks down from our apartment on West 53rd Street, 221 West 53rd Street to be exact, and we'd been here for three months, God how time had flown…

_~3 Months two weeks and two days earlier~_

"Ellen!" I exclaimed.

None other than Ellen Harvelle whirled around to blind me with a 100 watt smile before I was advanced upon and drawn into a constricting and mother bear hug.

"Dean Winchester! I haven't seen you since you were night ten years old!"

She drew back to rake a disapproving look across my haggard form.

"Though I'll say you looked a bit better at ten, you look like you've been through hell boy."

I gave a weary smile and shrugged.

"I guess the army's hell enough."

"Let's go sit and talk."

I was grateful for the silent implication; my leg ached from the short walk I'd taken so far, she'd noticed that but hadn't said a word. We sat on a park bench underneath a sprawling oak, cyclists and joggers raced past and the distant roar of Manhattan traffic filled the air.

"So what's the story Dean?"

"It's really not that exciting, when I turned seventeen I enlisted in medical, signed up for a tour in the army and shipped off to Afghanistan. I got caught by some shrapnel from a bomb and got shipped back home with an army pension. My plane landed here and I thought what the hell, I'll stay. I'm living in a shitty apartment in Brooklyn and here I am."

She gave me a deep frown.

"Where's Sam, isn't he missing you?"

I turned my head away to stare mournfully at my boots.

"I don't have a clue where Sam is, he got tied up in drugs a few years back. He's been in and out of rehab; I haven't seen him in almost two years. The last I heard he was somewhere up in North Dakota."

"You and Sam were always so close…I'm sorry to hear that."

I shrugged.

"Things change, so how have you been Ellen, I didn't know you were living up here."

She gave me a knowing look but accepted the change in conversation.

"William died a couple years back and Jo and I came up to visit William's parents. Jo loved Manhattan so much and William had left us some money so I let her convince me, God help me. I own a bar down on West 53rd street."

"I'm sorry to hear about William, what happened?"

She hugged and shot the sky a vaguely irritated look.

"Got himself shot out hunting, damn idiot."

I think disapproval and irate scolding was the only way Helen could show her love for anyone.

"So a shitty apartment in Brooklyn huh, trying for anywhere else?"

"It's all I can afford right now, but at this rate I won't be here for long, I can't afford New York on army pension."

"What about trying for a flatmate?"

"Ellen who would want me for a flat mate?"

She made an amused noise in the back of her throat as she gave me a strange look.

"What?"

"Oh nothing, it's just you're the second person to tell me that today."

Half an hour later we were taking the metro Southside to some official laboratory for the NYPD. Ellen kept shooting me amused looks for some reason until we reached the laboratory. Ellen pushed through a set of official looking doors while I limped behind her. Inside were all sorts of tech equipment. There were microscopes and lab equipment ranging from tissue analysis instruments to what looked like a paint mixer in the corner.

There was a brunette man of medium height; his shoulders were hunched as he peered into a microscope lens. He wore a black fitted suit that had to be custom fitted and was probably from some designer boutique. A tan trench coat was thrown over a stool by his side and a cobalt blue tie was pulled loose around his neck. His dark hair was thick and just needing a haircut, jell had been run through it haphazardly and it stuck up in wild disarrayed tuffs. That sort of hairstyle that was all the rage, especially with the fashion obsessed New York crowd I usually found either ridiculous or just flamboyant, it was always the self obsessed fashion sensitive guys with that sort of look. But this guy didn't have that self obsessive fashion look to him. If anything the hairstyle was from lack of personal grooming.

He glanced up at our entrance and I realized he had a set of wide eyes; I wouldn't lie and say they were the brightest shade of blue I'd ever seen. Elijah Wood and that flippy haired guy from that God awful tween musical movie had him trumped in that. They were a dark royal blue, subtle yet mesmerizing in a way you couldn't quite pinpoint.

He had a thin bridged nose, full lips and a square jaw with the slightest cleft chin. He was good looking, in that kind of way all the girls loved, the vague hints of dark and seductive, but just slightly too baby faced to quite pull it off.

"How do you feel about the violin?"

I cast a confused glance between Ellen and this strange guy.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I play the violin when I'm thinking. Sometimes don't talk for days on end, would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about one another."

"Are you…what?"

I was probably gaping like a fish on a dock but I was out of my element and extremely confused.

"Who said anything about flatmates?"

"I did, I spoke with Ellen this morning that I must be a difficult man to find a flatmate for. Now here she is with an old friend, clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan."

Now I was clearly gaping and probably looked like a moron.

"How did you know about Afghanistan?"

"Ellen here is offering a very nice apartment above her bar that we can meet there tomorrow evening at seven o'clock. Now if you'll excuse me I need to run, I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary."

I stuttered out.

"Is that it?"

"Is that what?"

"We've only just met and we're gona' go look at an apartment."

"Problem?"

"We don't know a thing about each other dude."

"I know you're an army doctor and you've been invalided home from Afghanistan. I know you have a sister you're not on good terms with, probably a drug problem. You're therapist thinks your limp's psychosomatic, she's quite right I'm afraid, now if you'll excuse me I really need to go."

I was still standing there gaping like a drowning fish and blinking stupidly in the harsh lighting of the lab. He suddenly popped back through the door and grabbed his trench coat before turning and shooting me an extremely smug look over his shoulder.

"The name's Castiel Novak."

When he left the room again I turned to give Ellen a perplexed look. She was grinning from ear to ear and shrugged.

"Yeah he's always like that."

~oOo~

So the next day I went to the address Ellen gave me. She'd told me her bar was called the Roadhouse. There was an assortment of different kinds throughout the bar, it was only six thirty. Some vaguely familiar rock tune was playing from the radio behind the counter and the lights were dimmed to a relaxing soft glow. Ellen came from around the bar and wrapped an arm around my neck, pulling me down to duck a little as she drug me towards the back.

"Jo come and see Dean."

The blonde that came barreling out of the back room I hardly recognized. I hadn't seen Jo in about thirteen years, we'd both been ten and awkward and just starting to realize that liking the opposite sex wasn't the end of the world. I'd just gone through my last growth spurt so I'd been all limbs and elbows with bleach blonde hair and still missing teeth. Jo had been built like a rail, possible even skinnier than me with hair so blonde it was almost white and a million freckles and a mean punch.

The Jo that hugged me now was still as skinny as ever but the chest that squeezed against mine was definitely a girl's. She pulled back to grin at me and I blinked a bit dumbly because damn. Her hair had darkened slightly to a golden blonde that she wore pulled back in a high ponytail. She still looked the same but not in a million different ways. She was gorgeous in a classic way that needed no make-up or frills to enhance. We grinned at each other for a minute before she slugged me in the shoulder.

"OW!What was that for?"

She flipped her ponytail and braced her hand on her outturned hip.

"For not calling for thirteen years asshat."

"Jesus Jo I know green berets that don't hit that hard."

Her grin doubled as she flounced to the front of the bar to yell at some drunk guy kicking a barstool. At that moment the bar door opened and Castiel Novak came striding through like he owned the place. He wore the same tan trench coat from yesterday and his hair was in the same state of disarray as before. He looked like he's just run through a hurricane.

His only greeting was a curt nod and Ellen led us through the back room with a roll of her eyes. In the back of the storage room she led us through a thick wooden door and up a set of narrow dark steps and into the apartment above. It was far nicer than I was expecting, there was a large living room, a spacious kitchen though neither of us probably needed it that much. The tour further revealed a long hall with two bedrooms and baths and an extra storage room. There was hardwood floors and plane navy blue and cream walls, none of the frilly floral wallpapers I hated.

The floors and walls were solid so sound from the bar below wouldn't be filtering up at odd times of the night though Ellen assured us both that the Roadhouse was usually low key. Two days later I was moving in my embarrassingly meager amount of personal possessions.

Castiel on the other hand more than made up for my lack of belongings. His crap was exploded everywhere. I hadn't learned till we moved in together what he actually did, consulting detective whatever that was. But he worked with the police and there were always various science experiments lying around for me to trip over. The first morning I woke up in our new flat I opened the fridge blearily to grab the half and half for my coffee only to scream like a five year old girl because Jesus Christ why was there a decapitated head sitting on the shelf nestled between the milk and orange juice?

Castiel poked his head around the corner with a slightly startled look on his face and I flailed at the severed head while shrieking again like a pubescent girl.

"CAS what the fuck!"

He gave me a look that quite clearly stated he thought I'd lost my mind.

"I am running an experiment to determine the discoloration of brain matter post mortem."

"BUT WHY IS THERE A FUCKING HEAD IN OUR FRIDGE?!"

I was still receiving the same vaguely irritated look that expressed what a complete moron he thought I was.

"I couldn't possibly trust the idiots at the lab with any of my experiments; I do them all at home."

I stuttered several times before sighing wearily and gingerly grabbing the creamer before slamming the fridge door with a shudder. Cas called over his shoulder as he meandered back to the living room.

"Pour me a cup would you, light with two spoonfuls of sugar please."

I made a face at that but obediently got another mug out. Cas had supplied his own coffee for us, not the shitty crap I was used to but whole bean from some super expensive café that I had to ground before I could even put it in the coffeepot. Just the smell was a hundred times better than anything I'd ever had and I was salivating before I'd even taken a sip. So I wouldn't complain about being used as a butler, but only this once.

**The first chapter was shorter than most of mine usually are. I just wanted to give you guys a small taste to see what you think and if you like it or not. As I said the plot is going a very different direction and there will eventually be lots of awesome sex.**

**So review and let me know what you think!**

**Oh and FYI I am a girl from Tennessee who's only been to NY City once, which was last summer. I'm a big researcher and I try to make everything as accurate as possible, most streets and buildings mentioned in the story will be real. All are in this chapter except for the Roadhouse of course. So if there is a discrepancy tell me nicely and don't chew me out for not having 30 billion streets memorized.**


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